


The Days of Wine and Roses

by SharpestScalpel



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Incest, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestScalpel/pseuds/SharpestScalpel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Mirror) Leonard McCoy was fifteen when he lost what was left of his virginity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Days of Wine and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, look, I don't generally warn for much because this is all mirror universe stuff and I figure if you're reading then you are aware. However, this is a bit of backstory fic (original_fine asked for something from McCoy's childhood) and it is wrongity wrong wrong. Like, here is the deal: mother/son incest, sexual abuse of a minor (it's still abuse even if he likes it), mention of animal torture (though nothing graphic because, omg, ew), and the implication that his mother is something of a black widow. If that doesn't send your squick-meters into the red, rock on. If it does, I totally understand. This hasn't been betaed because I really couldn't send this to anyone. *laugh*))

"Mama, please." Fifteen-year-old Lenny H. McCoy yelped and twisted, risking teeth on his most sensitive parts, at the hard pinch to his tender inner thigh that followed his unthinking words.

Lenore McCoy, three times a widow now that her last husband was safely in the ground, buried that very morning, and already back to her maiden name, pulled back away from her only child's spit-covered dick long enough hold his gaze and cock an eyebrow. "What did I tell you about that, Lenny?" She waited, red lips poised to suck him back into her mouth.

"Sorry, sorry. Lenore." It was habit more than any particular familial feeling that kept him calling her mama when he was feeling dizzy and tense. Lenny wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel for Lenore but when he thought about it everything was just sort of blank and fuzzy in his head. Something that should be there, if he believed what other people told him, but that just seemed absent. Or not even possible. Maybe he couldn't feel anything there at all.

That was probably for the best, all things considered. Love seemed to just confuse things for everyone involved; Lenny didn't like being confused, was smart enough that he rarely had to deal with it.

"Good boy, baby." Her praise was nice but the real reward was the way she pulled him back into her mouth with the strength of suction and the long, slow slide of her tongue on the underside of his hard on.

He'd asked around a little bit, the other boys in his class, as subtle as a bunch of ten-year-old boys could be about sex, when it started happening. Lenny didn't remember his own father (Lenore had never married him); his first step-father had been nice, though. Sammy had disappeared after yelling through the house, chasing Lenore from room to room and shouting at her about things Lenny hadn't been able to understand then and couldn't remember clearly now. They'd gone fishing together, Sammy and Lenny, so when his mama had told him she needed company because she was sad that Sammy was gone, he had sort of understood. Understanding had not made what followed seem normal and the responses of his classmates, in hushed and reverent whispers, had confirmed it: Regular little boys did not get blow jobs from their mamas when their step-fathers went missing.

Still, it had felt good. And he'd felt, finally, something like closeness to his mama. When she ran fingers through his hair, ruffling it, Lenny had known finally that he was her good boy, that she didn't mind (or maybe she still just didn't know) about what he'd been up to in the woods, things for which he felt a sort of muffled guilt after the fact, almost like he had an intellectual knowledge that he was misbehaving and felt guilty for not feeling guilty.

It had happened again after her next husband woke up dead one morning - a victim of an undiagnosed food allergy. Lenny had been 13 then, and David had been an asshole anyway. He hadn't felt anything, had watched in fascination as the men in biohaz suits came to take away the reeking corpse. Lenny and Lenore had burned the bed out in the middle of a back field with a firebreak carefully cut into the ground around it. No need to be irresponsible with their fire, she had told him. Then she'd made him drop to his knees so she could teach him how best to please a woman.

He's spent the entire year and a half of her marriage to David jerking off and imagining the girls in his class without their clothes on, maybe without their skin on; he was an eager student. And an excellent one. Lenny was not slouch in the brains department, as his granny had taken to saying. The taste of eager woman was hot on his tongue, and he responded with a precision uncommon in a boy of his age. Lenore stroked his head - when he looked up, it was to see her with her head tipped back, face to the sun like some flower, teeth digging into her lower lip. He liked how that looked.

David had been a saint in comparison to Leon. Leon had political ambitions and he thought Lenore looked just like the right kind of political wife. She had agreed. Lenny thought things were going well with this marriage - he never heard them fighting. But he never heard them fucking either and he'd long since developed a habit of leaving his window open, his room below hers, to catch the sound of her crying out her completion, whatever husband or man was there venting his lust in her body groaning in counterpoint.

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, not after there hadn't been any sounds for 6 months, when Leon was killed in a car accident, his brakes failing around a hair-pin curve. His mama was dangerous when she wasn't happy, after all.

Lenny bit his own lip now, head tipped back not toward the sun but so he could squeeze his eyes closed against the ceiling of the hay loft above him. Lenore's mouth was teaching him new ways to torture, soft scrape of teeth followed by a gentle sucking to soothe the little hurt, hands petting his thighs and easing him through the anguish of waiting when she pulled back before he could come.

This time she didn't return to her task and Lenny opened his eyes - Lenore was spreading herself out on the pile of hay he'd come up here to relax in with a book and a beer he'd filched from the fridge. She was hiking the skirt of her dress up, not wearing any panties and even Lenny knew that was a sign she'd been planning this because who didn't wear underwear to a funeral unless they were going to get up to some business afterwards?

Still, it made his mouth water as she pulled the fabric off over her head and if she was wanting him to eat her out, well, he was a devoted son. He'd damn well go for it and touch himself in the process. But when he settled down on his knees, low between her legs, Lenore shook her head and clutched his shoulder, pulled him up until he was settled on top of her. "You been with a woman before, baby?"

The question caught him off guard, caught as he was by the feel of his cock dragging across her naked belly. "No. Not really." He'd fumbled with a couple of the boys and girls in his class but the boys had been clumsy and the girls had been nervous. It was more efficient - and more satisfying because Lenny knew what he liked - to just touch himself, lube his hand and fuck into it as he made the springs of his mattress squeak.

She looked pleased, smiled big and open at him with her hazel eyes shining. Lenny had his mother's eyes, everyone said it, and he wondered with a sudden violent curiosity if his own eyes lit up like that for anyone. "Come here then, baby." Lenore reached down to help him find her entrance, grasped him by the hip with her other hand to direct him forward.

His cock slid into her and it was a little like dying, a little like when he slid his knife into the warm wet innards of small animals. The image bloomed in his mind and he settled his forehead against the jut of her collarbone so he could focus on it clearer, see it as he made unpracticed thrusts against her, in her, and it was like learning to breathe all over again as she met his hips with her own and modeled a rhythm he could follow - at least for a few minutes until the need to stutter against her made him erratic again, his orgasm rushing up from the bottom of his spine to the top of his head until he thought he'd be lucky not to find the hair singed from his scalp.

He panted, moist breathe on her skin, and she gave him a minute before pushing as his weight. Lenny wasn't a small boy - he'd taken after his father, according to his granny, in that regard at least. He moved back, sat on his heels, and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

Lenore's hands drifted between her thighs, one finger reaching deep into her own cunt to capture some of the slickness of his come. "Look at me." He obeyed, her sharp tone not to be argued with, and watched as she brought the glistening finger to her mouth. "Now finish your job, baby." She spread her legs wider so his shoulders would fit, hitched her thighs up over the strength of them so he could get closer.

The sounds - when Lenore and Leon had made them the first few months of their marriage - had been enough to make it clear: Leon was a selfish douchebag in the sack. Lenny knew how to take care of his mother just the way she liked and he went to work with the fervor of a lover trying to make up for two years of unsatisfactory fucking.

He was doing a goddamn good job of it if the way she was squirming was any indication. Lenny kept his mouth working at her, tongue on her clit and big hands moving the way she had taught him, not needing direction now because he'd replayed it in his own head so many times, one hand up to her breast to squeeze and catch at her nipple, the other spearing into her, pulling his own come out of her so he could suck it up, taste it mixed with her own wetness.

His own cock, tender and hurting from the hay he was rubbing against now that he was sprawled out and feasting on her, wasn't even a thought - at least it wasn't until it started to get hard again. He humped against the hay with a little more determination - the stab of the stalks of it just more sensation. He needed sensation; Lenny just wanted to feel it.

Her orgasm wrung a scream out of her and Lenny felt something like what others would describe as pride curl through his chest. He kept at her until her hands were pushing him away even as her voice made him want to crawl even closer. "Oh, baby, you're so good to your mama."

She never wanted to hear it during, him naming her for what she was. Lenny didn't try to analyze it, though. He didn't care. "Thank you, mama." He kissed his way up until he could curl in the straw beside her, cock leaking against his belly but his hands staying away even though he wanted to grab it and stroke until he came all over her clean skin, stretch marks from pregnancy glistening with his semen. He'd lick it off of her like he'd sucked it out of her, he could promise that.

Instead, Lenore's hands found him, touched him light and teasing while she laughed at his quick recovery time. "You're good at this, Lenny. It'll come in handy for you, I just bet it will." She brought him off quicky.

It left him gasping, on his back in the straw, muscles lax with the promise of deep slumber if he'd just close his eyes. He could only watch, blinking against the haze of sleep that wanted to take him, as she rose, brushed herself off so she could step back into her dress.

"Don't be late for dinner, baby. We've got casseroles to eat up." Lenore's mouth quirked into a half-smile at the mention of the funeral food brought in an informal procession by the neighbors and community members who were suspicious but still mindful of their manners.

The casseroles would keep, he thought. Lenny closed his eyes when she was down the ladder and no longer in sight, and settled down for a nap.


End file.
